The Woman's Sacrifice
by the.bohemian.scandal
Summary: Based on a gifset by doomslock, the story tells of Irene Adler's greatest sacrifice: giving her son the life he deserves.


It had terrified Irene. The idea, the thought. It was horrifying but real, too real. That little pink plus sign had burned her eyes and left a scar on her psyche. What could she do? What had to be done.

It had never even occurred to her that she could've gotten pregnant that night. That _one_ night full of emotions and games and passion and hate. The Virgin and The Woman should really have never been left in the same hotel room together, fueled by intellect and adrenaline left over from barely escaping a terrorist cell with their lives.

Irene spent most of her lonely pregnancy pondering whether she had slept with Sherlock out of boredom, curiosity, admiration, or a mixture of the three. Those were, quite possibly, the worst nine months of her life. Then again, she was legally dead and in hiding- not exactly the way _any_ mother would like to experience her first pregnancy.

The women of the small village in Colombia were surprisingly kind to her. Though, perhaps that was because she had told them the father had been killed. Either way, she might not have survived without them.

Then, on a very, very hot night in that little village in South America, Irene Adler gave birth to an incredibly healthy and beautiful boy that she named… _Hamish_. Irene had never seen something so small, so beautiful, so _perfect_. It was love at first sight.

She tried to raise him herself and give him a good and proper life, but she wasn't even alive- well… Neither was Sherlock, at this point. When the boy was three years old, about to turn four, she knew he needed to start school. She knew she needed to get him somewhere safer, but how could she when there were still men hunting her for blood? Irene knew that _she_ was the most dangerous thing in Hamish's life. She… Had to get him away from… _her_.

Sneaking back into London was easy, it always was. Irene called on a man that owed her a favor- she knew what he liked, after all- to smuggle them into the city and give them a place to stay. He owned several apartment buildings, you see.

Not even a week passed before she saw him. Sherlock. Walking around, seeming as if he hadn't a care in the world. He'd had a nice comeback then. Well, lucky him. It wasn't fair and Irene hated him for it. His enemies were under control and hers were just warming up and… Well, she knew what she had to do, she just… didn't want to do it. She really, _really_ didn't want to do it.

But she had to for Hamish, for her _son_. There was never really any question, any choice. On the steps of 221b Baker Street, Irene Adler knelt in front of the toddler. He was so small with such big blue eyes that he seemed unreal. The mop of jet black hair that contrasted so starkly against his alabaster skin only added to his doll-like appearance. He was beautiful and perfect and so _smart_ and _hers_.

Slender arms wrapped around the boy's small body and crushed him into her as tightly as she could squeeze without worrying about hurting him. A few traitor tears slipped from the corners of her own electric blue eyes and fell into his dark locks as she murmured, "Mummy loves you, Hamish. Mummy loves you very, very much." Painfully, she pulled away from the boy- and it was like pulling her own heart out of her chest, but she did it- so that she could meet his gaze with hers. "_I_ love you, Hamish. This is for your own safety. Don't ever forget that, yeah?"

Fighting back more tears, Irene quickly pinned a handwritten note to the lapel of Hamish's jacket. Long fingers brushed a curl away from a small forehead as she cupped his tiny face between her palms. "I'll see you soon, my darling boy. Remember that I love you."

The boy looked at her with those big circlets of lapis lazuli. Simply looked at her with an expression of such innocence on his face that what was left of Irene's heart broke to just look at him. A short, wet breath was taken in and then a small voice spoke, "Love too, Mumma… See soon."

A loud sob choked its way out of Irene's throat and she pressed her lips to her son's forehead briefly, but firmly, before finally tearing herself away from him- excruciatingly painfully- ringing the doorbell, and bolting across the street to hide behind some rubbish bins.

Through vision that had gone blurry with tears, she watched Sherlock open the door- and of course it was Sherlock, not John or Mrs. Hudson- with a hand over her mouth to hold in her cries of pain. The detective looked down, confused. She watched his mouth move. Hamish probably replied, but then… Then Sherlock found the note, read it quickly, then scooped the boy up and took him inside- out of Irene's sight.

Irene would have preferred to have done it in person- well… she would have preferred to not have to do this at all- but she needed to give Hamish to Sherlock in a way that wouldn't pique the detective's interest. The whole point of this was to get Hamish away from her, but if Sherlock decided to pursue her, then all this pain would be for nothing. A note was the only way to do that. All she could do at this point was fade away until it was safe enough for her to come back and hopefully…. Hopefully Hamish wouldn't hate her.

Hopefully.

* * *

_Sherlock,_

_I realise this is going to come as a shock to you, but there was no other way for me to do this. I'm sure it's quite clear to you that he's your son- look at his cheekbones, his hair. I'm sure you know how he came to be._

_The point is- I'm not ready to be a mother. I don't _want_ to be a mother. I tried and it's not for me. I didn't even want him in the first place. That night with you… It was an accident. _He_ was an accident and I don't want him anymore. He's yours now._

_Enjoy._

_-IA_


End file.
